


Uncomfortably Close

by arrowiskawaii



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowiskawaii/pseuds/arrowiskawaii
Summary: If it weren’t for the temperature in the vault plummeting every night after sundown, Shion would’ve relocated to the sofa a long time ago.





	Uncomfortably Close

**Author's Note:**

> Another kink meme fill, never before posted. The request was for Shion having wet dreams about Nezumi and the potential I saw for close-quarters domestic strife was too good to pass up.

There’s just one thing Shion knows for certain: this _has_ to be a dream. It was already fairly obvious from the second he found himself standing in a featureless void, but now Nezumi is there with him, and he keeps doing that flirty, fluttery thing with his eyes that would probably be best described as pornographic.

 _Oh_ , Shion realizes. And they both also happen to be _spectacularly_ under-dressed for this time of year.

“Well, hello there.” The dream version of Nezumi puts his arms around Shion’s shoulders and starts purring into his ear. “This makes it every night for two whole weeks that we’ve seen each other. You must _really_ want me.”

“I refuse to even respond to that."

“Is that so?” Nezumi is undeterred as always; he smiles and threads his fingers into Shion’s hair, making his scalp tingle. “And here I was under the impression you found me… _irresistible_.”

“Just because you keep showing up in my dreams uninvited doesn’t mean—”

Nezumi slides his fingers along Shion’s jaw and down to the center of his chest, demonstrating just how very little he cares to listen. Shion begins to tremble, cursing inwardly as Nezumi’s hand ventures even lower.

“You want me,” Nezumi simpers. “Pretty compelling evidence down here, wouldn’t you say?”

“Quit it!” Shion doesn’t even want to _think_ about where Nezumi’s palm has settled, even as his hips lean in and a pleasurable sensation builds. “You’re the one who’s—”

“You’re blaming _me_?” Nezumi laughs at him outright. “Whose dream do you think this is, moron?”

Nezumi’s mouth draws nearer, still snickering, and Shion can only close his eyes in anticipation of a kiss that might make all the rest worthwhile—and then, just before their mouths can meet, Shion feels a blow to the back of the leg delivered via the real Nezumi’s very tangible kneecap.

Shion wakes instantly and twists around to his attacker’s side of the bed. Though he may not be able to see it, Shion can still _feel_ Nezumi’s leg continuing to jerk under the blankets before slowing to a stop. It would appear that he didn’t even wake himself up.

“Dammit,” Shion whispers.

Nezumi is, in no uncertain terms, an unrepentantly awful bedmate. He steals blankets and pillows, he tosses and turns, he spreads himself out all over the mattress if Shion doesn’t push back, and worst of all, he kicks. Shion knows he should probably feel more grateful he’s no longer getting knocked out of bed, at least, but if it weren’t for the temperature in the vault plummeting every night after sundown, Shion would’ve relocated to the sofa a long time ago.

Though never a problem while living inside the comfortable walls of No. 6, late January has brought persistent, bone-chilling cold to the West Block. Even Nezumi seems to suffer in these conditions—and surely has for years—yet he’s the one to insist the kerosene heater is too much of a risk to keep burning through the night. Shion has so far been too afraid to ask, so he’s come to further rely on Nezumi’s wisdom instead: his wisdom in matters such as donning as many extra layers as possible, making use of hot water bottles, or even employing a special technique for preserving body heat that Nezumi has lovingly begun to call ‘strategic cuddling’.

(Shion had been the accidental—though not necessarily regretful—inventor of this sleeping position, thanks to a particularly cold New Year’s Eve and a gift of champagne from Rikiga, but that’s a story he doesn’t care to recall just now.)

Once Shion feels he’s emotionally prepared to accept the inevitable, a small shift is all it takes to confirm a significant dampness between the legs. It’s not like he'd much hope to begin with, considering the unusually explicit nature of tonight’s dream, yet revulsion washes over Shion anyway. There’s no way he can just fall back asleep in this state, he decides, so he forces himself out of bed.

Though the vault is pitch black, Shion still knows the layout well enough to competently feel his way around to the back corner where he and Nezumi store their spare clothing items. Shion has also long since adjusted to the realities of a limited wardrobe, but it still seems pathetic to be feeling around for his one other pair of underwear, freshly washed from a similar incident just yesterday. Worse than shame alone, Shion's been getting a nasty feeling that Nezumi’s already on to him, just because whatever Shion does, Nezumi _always_ seems to notice.

 _Nocturnal emissions._ Of all the books on Nezumi’s shelves that discuss the topic of human reproduction, not a single one has provided Shion with a satisfying answer to his quandaries. Why so suddenly, why so often? Although Shion can freely admit that Nezumi is attractive to him, that he’s always been drawn to him in some way or another, these unconscious fantasies of his have all seemed ill-considered at best. These last two weeks have truly made him wonder if he might just be delusional, especially since he always seems to envision _Nezumi_ coming on to _him_.

For the first time in months, Shion finds himself wishing to be back in No.6—if only to have access to the educational archives, and whatever information he might be able to gleam from them. Or maybe what he’d really rather have is Safu by his side again, comforting in all her frank assessments of his probable neurological disorders. He’s even starting to see the appeal in being sat down by his well-meaning mother, whose deeply embarrassing puberty talks could surely drive most people to pursue a lifetime of celibacy. Just anything would be better, Shion thinks, than having to live inside his own hormone-addled brain, with nobody to confide in except for the one person on the entire planet who—

“Shion?”

Shion freezes, still undressed from the waist down. Nezumi’s voice, still murky with sleep, seems to penetrate the darkness like a horrible nightmare.

“I’m—um—” Shion chokes and forces himself to try again. “Sorry, I’m still here!”

“What the hell’re you doing?” The bedsprings creak dangerously. “Come back to bed, idiot, s’freezing—”

“Hold on, I’m coming—”

Shion finishes redressing with his heart in his throat, then stumbles his way back to bed and gets in. He’s glad, at least, that the warmth trapped beneath the blankets has not yet completely escaped.

“Don’t run off on me,” Nezumi murmurs, and pulls Shion straight into his arms. Shion has never been so grateful for Nezumi to be only half-awake—ideally, he might even be kind enough to just fall back asleep and forget about the whole thing come morning.

“Sorry,” Shion whispers back, trying for casual. “Your portable heater had to get out of bed.”

A snort.

“Some heater you turned out to be, wandering off.” Nezumi lets out a sleepy sigh. “What were you doing over there?”

Non-ideal it is, then. While it’s true Nezumi might not even be suspicious yet—he has a habit of asking idle questions, just to be aware of things—Shion still feels the onset of panic.

“I had to—” Shion stops himself before the words ‘I had to pee’ slips out of his mouth, because if that’s the case then he certainly had no business standing over in the corner. “I just thought I heard a noise.”

“A noise?”

“Yeah—but don’t worry about it, I already checked it out and it’s fine.”

“What do you mean, _fine_?" Tragically, Nezumi now sounds significantly more awake. "Why didn’t you wake me up for this?”

Shion squirms a little. Maybe picking an excuse that would only fuel Nezumi’s paranoia wasn’t the best choice he’d ever made.

“I mean, you always yell at me if I bother you for no reason, right? I wanted to make sure I didn’t just dream it, at least, so—”

“Why didn’t you light the lamp?”

“Because… the light would’ve woken you up?” Shion _really_ hopes Nezumi can’t tell he’s practically chewing his bottom lip. “Like I said, I thought I might’ve imagined it anyway, and apparently I did because I couldn’t find anything wrong and everything’s fine.”

But it turns out things are decidedly not fine, actually, because the next thing Shion knows is Nezumi climbing over his legs to get himself out of bed. Next he strikes a match and Nezumi’s face becomes illuminated by the glow of the lamp, with tangled, shoulder-length hair framing his murderous expression.

“I would appreciate the truth, Shion.”

Nezumi’s breath is visible in the air as he speaks, and his voice has a chill to match. Shion shuffles backwards towards the wall.

“I—”

Shion swallows, knowing better to than to continue testing his luck. Months ago, when Shion first came to the West Block, Nezumi wouldn’t have even _thought_  of giving him another chance like this, and even now, continuing to lie might genuinely mean putting himself in danger.

“The truth is embarrassing,” Shion protests.

Nezumi lifts an eyebrow, but otherwise holds steady. It’s clear now that only one option remains.

“I—was changing,” sputters Shion. “Changing my clothes, I mean. Nothing happened, I swear, I just—” He pauses as a lump forms in his throat, primed for his imminent humiliation. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, the truth is that these last two weeks I’ve been having a lot of—weird dreams, and I don’t know why it’s happening but tonight I woke up and realized I’d—ejaculated in my sleep, and then I didn’t want to just lay in it it, so that’s why—”

Shion trails off. Nezumi looks at him like he’s struggling to comprehend the words that have just poured out of his mouth, like vomit. An eternity seems to pass before he finally sinks back down onto the edge of the bed.

“You just scared the shit out of me,” he says. “ _For_ _that_.”

“You can check if you want,” Shion tells him, unhinged. “If you don’t believe me the underwear I was wearing is still—”

“Trust me, I do not want to check.” Nezumi drags his fingers through his hair and turns to look at Shion again—this new expression of his is still terrifying, but for entirely different reasons. “ _Really_ , Shion? Admitting you had a _wet dream_ is what embarrasses you?”

“I’m really—”

“ _Grow up_ ,” Nezumi bites out at him. “For fuck’s sake, don’t lie when it’s just stupid shit like this. I need to trust you.”

Shion determines that no, this isn’t just a non-ideal outcome—this is the worst outcome.

“You can still trust me, I just—I just obviously wanted to keep it myself, and it wasn’t exactly crucial information—”

“And since _when_ , I ask you, have you been a competent judge of anything, least of all what’s crucial and what isn’t?” Nezumi clearly meant those words to hurt, but the venom drains from his voice as a shiver comes over him. “Fuck—thanks for ruining what could have otherwise been a decent night’s sleep, Shion. Can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Nezumi gets up again and extinguishes the lamp before Shion can think of anything remotely helpful to say, then climbs back into bed.

“Turn,” he says.

“Turn?”

“As in turn over. Face the wall.”

Shion does so, heart in his throat, yet all Nezumi does is throw an arm over his waist and cuddle back up to him, in much the same way as the night began.

“Nezumi—”

“Save it,” Nezumi huffs, and stubbornly presses closer. “You’re still the warmest thing in this room—don’t make it awkward.”

Shion’s eyes start watering, but he keeps his mouth shut tight.

 

* * *

 

The heater is back on again by morning, filling the room with comfortable warmth and the wafting smell of breakfast. It’s such a nice thing to wake up to that Shion is halfway to closing his eyes again when he spots Nezumi on the sofa, knees pulled up to his chest, watching him steadily. A brief moment of eye-contact is all it takes for the memory of last night to wash over Shion like a nauseating wave.

“Good morning,” Nezumi says blandly, uncurling himself. “I thought you might appreciate a little extra sleep—more time for _dreaming_ , wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh my god,” Shion groans, and buries his face in his pillow, hoping to some small degree that he won’t resurface.

“You're unbelievable.” Nezumi swipes a stale bread roll off the table and starts tearing it apart for the mice. They start chattering with anticipation. “Are we really not old enough yet to deal with the reality of our own body functions?”

“I’m sorry,” Shion says into the pillow. “I’m sorry that I lied to you, I am, but—”

“Stop doing that, I can barely make out your groveling.”

Shion sighs and reluctantly lifts his head.

“I said that I’m sorry I lied to you. But like I tried to say last night, it’s not a _necessary_ body function, and it was especially unnecessary for you to—”

“Are you serious?"

"What?"

"You're supposed to our resident scientist, yet her you are calling your reproductive abilities _unnecessary_. Shall I also add ‘Perpetual Virgin’ to your growing list of epithets, Your Majesty?”

Shion opens his mouth in protest but then takes pause. It’s strange, because while Shion can plainly see Nezumi’s irritation, he also knows that Nezumi drops the witticisms whenever he’s truly angry. It’s still not pleasant to be groused at, of course, but does this mean he’s essentially already forgiven him?

“Nezumi,” Shion begins. He's decided to test it. “Why can’t you just understand I was embarrassed?”

“Who says I don’t understand?” Nezumi rolls his eyes and stands up to stir the pot sitting on top of the heater. “Maybe I just see things differently, ever think of that? Maybe I didn’t think I had to spell out that I didn’t want you hiding shit from me just to protect your precious ego.”

“I do try not to hide things from you, but you’re acting like it’s unreasonable to want any privacy.”

“It’s not—” Nezumi’s free hand curls at his side, but he manages to keep his even tone. “This isn’t about privacy, it’s about other things. Such as the thought that I’m cohabitating with a known liar.”

Shion’s heart sinks.

“You _know_ I’d never lie to you if it was something important.”

“Do I?” Nezumi says pointedly. “And for the record, I really couldn’t care less about your where your bodily fluids end up, short of you pissing the bed. So just tell me the fucking truth, and then we'll deal with it.”

Shion finally pushes the blankets aside and sits up, sighing.

“I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. I mean it.”

“I don’t want hear how sorry you are, I want to hear you say you won’t do it again.”

“I won’t lie to you again. I value my life more than that.”

Nezumi makes a face like he's trying not to let himself smile. He came pretty close to pulling it off, too—an actor's talent, perhaps.

“There’s no guarantee of execution until I’ve seen the severity of your next crime, Your Highness,” Nezumi tells him. Shion doesn’t miss the ease of tension from his shoulders when he sighs. “And it’s past eight, in any case, so might I suggest you drag yourself out of bed? This conversation’s over, anyway—I need to change out of these sweaty clothes.”

Nezumi turns and disappears behind the bookcases, leaving Shion to peel off his extra layers because he's starting to sweat himself. As he does so, he begins to wonder: if he chooses not to disclose the subject of his dreams, would Nezumi consider that lying as well?

Cravat leaps onto the arm of the sofa to greet Shion, probably sensing that the argument was over and it was safe to approach. Shion strokes him with one finger.

“I think I got off easy, all considering,” Shion says to him, loud enough for Nezumi to hear. “D’you think he might be getting a little nicer?”

“I most certainly am not,” Nezumi calls out.

“Yes you are,” Shion insists. “You never would’ve let me get away with something like last night in the past. You were like a wild animal, before.”

“I hate to tell you this Shion, but when a wild animal suddenly starts acting friendly, that’s a symptom of _rabies_.”

“So you’re telling me you've got rabies,” Shion dares to say, “but only towards me?”

Shion doesn’t know what he expected but Nezumi doesn’t even dignify him with a response. He returns after another minute and tends to the pot again before declaring their breakfast ready to eat, all without sparing Shion even a glance.

“Did I go too far?” Shion says, worrying.

“Just eat,” Nezumi demands, and shoves a bowl of soup at him. “So I don’t have to listen to you talk anymore.”

Shion frowns but takes Nezumi’s offering. It looks and smells surprisingly good.

“You didn’t give me a spoon.”

“Get up and grab one, then.”

Shion stands up to go fetch one out of the tub where they store their clean dishes and silverware—again, its contents are pathetically sparse. Then Shion he sits down again only to be joined by Nezumi a moment later, who plops himself down frighteningly close beside him.

“Uh—what are you doing?”

“Just returning the favor of making you as uncomfortable as possible.”

Shion feels his cheeks heat up. He's impressed by how well Nezumi can make a point.

“I’ll try to keep my mouth shut from now on.”

“It’s not just your mouth—you’ve gotten awfully bold ever since two weeks ago. Ever since you kissed me, I mean.”

Soup dribbles out of Shion’s open mouth. They'd never really discussed that evening further, so Shion had just gone on assuming his feelings were unrequited.

That had been two weeks ago now, the same night the dreams started.

“What?" Nezumi sound vaguely insulted. "Did you think I’d be too stupid to realize what you meant by two weeks worth of weird dreams, given what you did?”

“...I don't remember specifying two weeks.”

“Well you said _something_ like that, amid all that babbling you did last night. Again, do you think I’m stupid or something?”

Shion squeezes his eyes shut. “No."

Nezumi goes silent for a few seconds before choosing to start on his breakfast.

"You don't have to worry about me banishing you to the sofa, at any rate. I like my portable heater too much for that."

“Oh.” Shion feels like he's missing something, but he just can't seem to read between the lines. "Fair enough.”

"No promises once spring comes, though," Nezumi tell him. " _If_ we make until then."

They never did get to experience spring together in the West Block of course, but living with Nezumi became significantly easier from then on. And not just because the dreams finally stopped—Nezumi seemed to gradually reconsider the whole unrequited thing, too. 


End file.
